To Have and To Hold
by PBContessa
Summary: AU Season 2, Sydney never went missing. A year after an injury that changed both of their lives, Vaughn tries to convince Sydney that they can move on. "The opportunities for catastrophe are infinite."


Title: To Have and to Hold

Summary: "The opportunities for catastrophe are infinite." A year after an injury that changed both of their lives, Vaughn tries to convince Sydney that they can move on.

Timeline: AU post S2, Sydney never went missing

Disclaimer: Alias and the characters are not mine.

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Rating: PG, PG-13?

A/N: As always, please, please, review! It helps me to improve my writing

The early glow of the sunrise seeped in through the bay window, bathing the kitchen in its rosy light. Sydney sighed contentedly, her hands wrapped around a warm red mug as she pressed it to her lips. The coffee was strong but sweet, the pleasant combination waking her senses. This was her favorite time of day, her half hour of solitude alone with her thoughts, her coffee, and the sunrise. Today, her thoughts were fluid, flitting lazily from subject to subject, until her eyes lighted upon the rings she wore on her left hand. They caught the light, refracting it across the sunny yellow walls in a delicate pattern. She smiled, thinking of the day those rings had been placed there.

Vaughn had taken her to Santa Barbara. It hadn't been the way that they had planned, the fire, her fight with Allison, and Will's placement in Witness Protection throwing their lives into chaos. He had surprised her with the trip three months later, when they finally felt as though they were settling back into their lives. She had been consumed with finding Sloane, thoughts of justice for Francie monopolizing her mind.

He had picked her up from the Rotunda, doubling back late at night as he had left hours ago and she had insisted on staying, reading and rereading the reports of Sloane's last sighting, searching for a nonexistent lead. When she got into his car, weary and frustrated, her brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of the duffle bags piled into the back seat.

"Vaughn, what's going on? Did we catch a break?"

"Yeah, we did, actually" he answered, his boyish grin juxtaposed with her skeptical frown. "It is Ibiza? Because I told Kendall _weeks _ago that we should have looked harder into Ibiza" she ranted, taking no notice of his excited smile.

"No, it's not Ibiza. It's Santa Barbara."

"What?" she asked, quizzical, her expression changing as she finally realized the meaning of his words.

"No, Vaughn, no. We cannot just take three days off, we-"

"Yes, we can. I already cleared it with Kendall" he answered evenly as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"That's not what I meant. I meant _I_ can't take a break, not until Sloane is dead."

He sighed, despite the fact that he had anticipated this reaction. "Sydney, there are no promising leads right now. Taking a weekend off will not tank the investigation."

"Vaughn, I need him to pay" she said in a desperate whisper. "Francie is dead."

"I know. Francie is dead and Will never got the chance to have a life with her. You almost died. I'm not going to miss our chance to be happy. Men like Sloane win when good people lose sight of all of the things that made this fight worth it in the first place."

Sydney had no reply except to cross her arms across her chest and stare out the window. Try as she did to stay angry, she felt her arms relaxing from their defiant position as her eyelids grew heavier. She was lulled by the motion of the car and the sounds of the highway, slipping into the first restful sleep she had had in months. When they arrived, Vaughn had woken her with a kiss on her forehead, smoothing her hair from her face as he whispered, "Baby, we're here."

That night, all they did was sleep, soothed by the warmth of the other's embrace and the beating of their contended hearts. They spent the next day at the beach, trying to jump the waves and building poorly structured castles in the sand. Laughter burst from her lips, the sound surprising to them both as it had lain dormant for the past few months. He surprised her more when he took her hand, leading her to a quiet spot away from all the other beachgoers until he stopped, bending to one knee in the sand as he asked her to be his wife. That night, they didn't sleep. Instead, they walked, talked, and made love in the rushes until they were both elated and breathless.

They lay beneath the stars, creating dreams; plans for girls with green eyes and boys with dimpled smiles. This time, it was her turn to surprise him as she whispered, "Let's do it here." She laughed at how taken aback he looked before she clarified, "Not have a baby, get married. Let's get married here." He tucked her hair behind her ear, framing her face with his hand as his eyes met hers. He understood her desire to elope. With Francie's death so recent, planning an elaborate affair without her best friend would only add to her heartbreak. "Tomorrow" he assured her, sealing his promise with a kiss.

They had been married the next day, a simple ceremony on the beach where they had spent the night. It was nothing like she had ever imagined yet it was everything she had ever wanted.

Sydney smiled into her coffee cup at the recollection of her father's face when they had returned to JTF the following day with matching grins and rings. That had been a year ago, yesterday. Last night, they had gone to an out of the way French cafe that Vaughn said reminded him of summers spent at his grandmother's house. With a smile as big as the one he had worn on their wedding day, he had taken her hand as they entered the restaurant, pulling her close to murmur, "I'm the luckiest man on Earth." She blushed at his compliment and they had spent most of the evening reminiscing about their brief stint as newlyweds. They had still been living in the apartment Vaughn had rented as a bachelor, blissfully unaware that the tiny space was not made to accommodate two fully grown people and a large bulldog. The couple had spent so much time trying to be as close as physically possible that they hadn't noticed how cramped they had become. His clothes mixed carelessly with hers on the floor, but instead of creating frustration, the sight only provoked ecstasy at the thought that his life was forever entwined with hers.

Then, a month later, there was a break in the investigation, and everything changed. Sydney, whose obsession with Sloane had been abated by her new marital status, had become once again fixated on revenge. It had been Sloane himself who had initiated contact, demanding a Rambaldi artifact from the DSR collection in exchange for North Korean missile codes. He laid out his terms; he set the location, he met with Sydney only, no guards, no weapons, and at the end, he got to walk away with his prize. Any deviation and he swore that the codes would end up in the hands of the highest anti-American bidder. Kendall had been hesitant but Sydney had been militant in her pursuit of the op. Reluctantly, he had agreed to authorize the meet, if only because the consequences of refusal were simply too high.

Vaughn had been furious when he found out, ambushing Kendall in his office and shouting at the man for putting his wife into such a hazardous position. He had only backed down when Kendall had insisted that it was Sydney who had demanded to be put there in the first place. If his conversation with Kendall had been heated, his argument with Sydney was explosive. "I cannot believe you're not supporting me on this" she had yelled, slamming arbitrary belongings into her overnight bag. "This is all I've wanted for months. This is my chance to finally bring him down and you're acting like I'm some rookie who can't hold her own in the field."

"You're going to try to bring him in? You're either insane or suicidal, and right now, neither of those seems like a quality I'd want in the person handling the exchange that could mean the start of nuclear war." He ran his hands through his hair, his wedding band dragging across his scalp a reminder that he had bound himself to the woman with the world's lowest self-preservation instincts.

"Sydney, I'd go crazy if anything happened to you" he admitted, his voice softening. She shook her head. "Vaughn, you know how much I hate it when you try to protect me."

"Well it's my job. As your partner _and _as your husband" he countered, grabbing her hands and stilling them as she fumbled with the zipper on her bag. She looked up at him. "That's my point. I'm your wife, you should trust my judgment." He could see the desperation in her eyes, her need to capture Sloane and make him answer for all of the people he had taken from her. "No" he responded firmly. "Not when it's impaired."

In the end, she had won because in their month of marriage Vaughn had still not managed to dissuade his bride from anything that she was truly set on. She had at least consented enough to allow him to remotely monitor the meet, his calm voice in her ear like a sedative counteracting the adrenaline coursing through her veins. It had almost been enough to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Almost. Yet when she was face to face with Arvin Sloane, it wasn't the missile codes or the Rambaldi artifact on her mind. It was the sight of Danny in the bathtub, Will, the same way and barely breathing. It was the way Allison had contorted Francie's appearance with rage and the way it had felt to end the life of a woman wearing her best friend's face. It was her homes: her apartment with Danny, destroyed and violated, her place with Francie, Will, and Vaughn that had been burned to ground. Despite this, she had almost thought that she could keep her resolve, until he noticed her wedding ring. She hadn't remembered the exact wording of his comment, or what Vaughn was shouting over comms, the blood rushing through her ears the only sound she had been aware of.

She managed to waste the first bodyguard before he knew what was happening. The second came at her as she saw Sloane snatch his disk back off of the table and radio for extraction. She knew it was now or never. As she spun at the large man, she watched Sloane make a grab for the case that housed Rambadi's schematics. Momentarily distracted, she had managed to kick the container from his reach but was blindsided by the guard coming up from her left. Her head hit the concrete hard and she finally became aware of the frantic voice in her ear. As the man loomed over her to finish her off, she managed to roll away at the last second, positioning herself behind her attacker. She then subdued him with a swift kick, but it was too late. Sloane was gone and he had taken the codes with him.

Facing Vaughn had been almost worse than seeing Sloane again. He had pulled the surveillance van around to the entrance of the warehouse just as she had finished with the second guard. The look in his eyes, a combination of anger, disappointment, and fear, made her ashamed to look at him as she climbed into the passenger seat. "Kendall's furious" he led, his own rage making his voice quaver. "You already reported me?" She knew that he would have to reveal the truth about what she'd done, but she was surprised that he had done it so soon. "Yeah, I had to report to base-ops that the meet went sour. I know you've forgotten this, but this is affects more than just you." It stung, but it was the truth. "We're not flying back tonight like we planned. There's a safehouse outside of the city, we're staying to try to do some damage control."

"I made a judgment call" she offered lamely. "No, you didn't." He jerked the steering wheel with a little more force than necessary as he turned down an alley. "A judgment call requires thought. You made a suicide attempt." She stared down at her hands, feeling like a child. "He was right there in front of me. All I could see was Danny, Will, and Francie. What he did to them. I couldn't just stand there."

He sighed and she dared a glance at him. It was only then that she saw that his hands were shaking so badly that he was struggling to clench the steering wheel. "If getting revenge for your past is more important to you than us having a future, then I don't know why you married me in the first place." Tears had welled at the corners of his eyes as he stared straight ahead, jaw set. She hadn't meant to hurt him. This wasn't about them. But she knew that he wouldn't understand that, that everything she did was personal to him. So, she turned the tables on him.

"You knew that this was a part of who I am. Why did you marry me if you couldn't accept that?" Their words were quiet now, their anger replaced by an intolerable sadness. She watched his chest rise and fall as he struggled to maintain his composure. He had never cried in front of her before and he didn't want to be the first to break. "I had this insane thought that maybe I could keep this thing from overtaking you. That night on the pier, the night I realized that you would mean more to me than anyone I had ever met, I promised myself that I would do everything I could to keep the darkness at bay. But I can't do that if you don't let me. It was never the job you needed protection from, Syd. It's yourself, it always has been."

"Do you know why I like being undercover so much?" she whispered. "Because Kate Jones isn't the reason her fiancé was killed. Because Amy Tippin didn't live with a stranger for six months without realizing she was her best friend's killer. With the wigs on, and the contacts in, I can actually stand to look in the mirror. I don't have to be Sydney."

She had broken first, the tears sliding silently down her face as she stared down at her lap. He glanced over at her, worry etched across his features. His anger slipped away as he turned his attention back to the road but reached out to her, one hand covering both of hers.

"Sydney is the woman I fell in love with. Sydney is the person I chose to marry because, despite all of the horrible things that she's seen, she has this innate goodness that astounds me every day. She loves more deeply than anyone I've ever met. It's her greatest strength but it's also her greatest weakness." He looked back at her once more, imploring her to hear his words.

"I love you, Syd. That's why it terrifies me when you don't see how important you are. We'll catch Sloane, I promise. But I don't want to lose you in the process."

They had reached their destination now, a safehouse hidden in a wooded area outside of Hamburg. She finally looked back up at him as they came to a stop on the dirt path that led to the cabin. "When we get home" she started, entwining her fingers with his as she spoke. "Maybe I should take some time off. Step back, clear my head. Go to the desert for a couple days, maybe."

"Whatever you need." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping out the van, opening the sliding side door to retrieve their bags and equipment. He led the way, keeping vigilant of their surroundings and sweeping the safehouse to ensure that they were secure. They worked in silence, each not wanting to break their tentative truce as they unpacked and made contact with JTF. Sydney sat on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes as she cradled her head in her hands. She needed to breathe; she needed to get out of her own head before she drove herself insane. Guilt was the primary emotion. Guilt over her failure to avenge the people she loved. Guilt about Vaughn, a man she loved more than she thought possible and asked every day to let her put her needs before his own. Guilt because she wanted a normal life with her husband, when it was her fault that so many lives had been ruined. She heard him speaking, muffled by the door, and now she had one more thing to feel guilty about. He was taking the brunt of Kendall's wrath, shielding her from the blame she rightly deserved. If Sloane sold those codes and initiated a missile strike, it would be on her. More death caused by Arvin Sloane because she hadn't been able to prevent it.

The door swung open and Vaughn stepped inside, tossing his phone onto the low dresser. "What did he say?" she asked, almost timid.

"Sloane made contact again. He wants to meet tomorrow morning and finish the deal."

"What?" she gasped, incredulous. Vaughn ran a hand down his face, sighing. "He said if we don't make the exchange, he'll launch the missiles himself." His voice was defeated, his unhappiness evident in his scowl.

"And you and Kendall are okay with me doing this?" She found it hard to believe that either man would trust her around Sloane again, thousands of dangerous scenarios playing in her mind at once.

"No, you're not making the switch. I am." Her mouth fell open in astonishment.

"Vaughn, that's insane. You're willing to meet with Sloane right after I've crossed him? Are you crazy?" He laughed humorlessly, pacing between the bed where she sat and the dresser.

"Not so fun when you're on the other end, is it? He said he'd only meet with me or he's detonating those nukes. I don't really have much choice."

"I don't like this." His back was to her so she reached for him, catching his hand in hers and turning him to face her. "Vaughn" she uttered their shared name in a half whisper, gently leading him to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. "I need you. Sometimes it feels like you're the only thing holding me together." She placed a hand on either side of his face, her eyes showing him the honesty behind her words.

"I'm right here. Sydney, I'm not going anywhere" he comforted, covering one of her hands with his. She nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then his lips. The kiss deepened, part forgiveness, part outpouring of all of the emotions that ran too deep for words. She pulled them back onto the bed, needing the reassuring weight of his body, the strength of his arms, the tenderness of his caresses. They were fire and fury, their coupling a contradiction of anger and healing, hope for the future of their lives together and fear that that life might be taken from them. They were one heart, one soul, one body. They were the opposite and they were the same. Neither knew if they were ending or beginning as they showed their love in the most intimate of ways, not knowing that it was their last time.

The next morning, she was the one in the van with hands and knees shaking as she watched the love of her life walk towards a meeting with one of the CIA's most wanted. She didn't know how he did it; staying calm and reassuring over the earpiece when all she wanted to do was run to his side. Sitting here, waiting, she gained a little more appreciation for what she put him through every day. They made the exchange and she held her breath, listening closely. It was done, they were walking away, and then she heard the gunshot and her husband's shout of pain. Sprinting towards the warehouse door, she almost missed the voice, low and cold over the commlink. "Your wife knows better than to betray me." Vaughn was alone by the time she reached him, face down and barely conscious, blood seeping through his jacket as she pressed her hand to his back and radioed for a medevac. There was so much blood on her hands and it didn't stop. Danny's blood, Francie's blood, Will's blood, Vaughn's blood. It was too much.

The mug slipped from Sydney's grasp, the handle chipping as it crashed against the table. Dregs of coffee seeped sluggishly out onto the wooden surface as she caught her breath, the memory of the worst day of her life slowly dissipating as she reminded herself, as she did after every recollection or nightmare of that day, _'Vaughn is alive, He's here and he's alive.'_ She collected her thoughts, sweeping the small shards of ceramic off of the table and into her hand. Tossing them into the garbage, she grabbed a dishrag, wiping the surface of the table clean. As she turned to the sink to rinse her hands, she glanced at the oven's clock. 5:30. It was time to move or they would be late.

Stepping into the bedroom, she took in the sight of her husband's sleeping form beneath the covers. Their loyal bulldog lay across the foot of the bed, his head resting atop his owner's feet. "Hey Donnie" she crooned, scratching the dog behind the ears as he whined. A year ago, the noise would have woken Vaughn, but now, the pain medication that gave him enough relief to fall asleep at night had made him a much heavier sleeper. "Vaughn" she murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his hair back from his forehead. He didn't stir. "Babe, it's time to get up" she continued with a gentle shake of his bare shoulder. Slowly, he opened his eyes, still groggy. "Hey" she breathed. He smiled sleepily. "Good morning" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Morning" she answered softly, returning his smile. He stretched out his hands to her and she took them, helping him pull himself into a sitting position. She leaned in, greeting him with a quiet kiss. "Ready?" she asked as they broke apart. "Mhmm" he replied, letting go of her hands and reaching up to hold onto the metal rung that hung above the bed from the upstretched arm of the metal bedframe. Sydney walked over to the dresser, grabbing the gait belt from where she had left it last night. Returning to the bed, she wrapped the belt around his abdomen, clicking the buckle in place and tightening the strap. Vaughn placed his arms on her shoulders, allowing her to bear his weight. She shifted his legs so that his feet were hanging off of the bed and his knees were wedged between hers for stability. With her hands hooked between the belt and his skin, she muttered "One, two three" and lifted, sliding him from the bed into the wheelchair beside it. Her chest heaved with the effort of transferring him, and she wiped the sweat from her forehead as he settled himself into the wheelchair.

She marveled at how attuned they had become to this process. When they had first moved into this home, after he had been released from the hospital, they had been a mess. She couldn't count the number of mornings that they had been late to work because they had found themselves in a heap on the floor and she wasn't strong enough to lift him back up on her own without having to call Weiss for assistance. Now, they were experts, their routine efficiently established. She held the door open for him as he wheeled into the bathroom, with her following behind. They had had this home specifically built after his injury, so the tiled floor allowed him to easily access the roll-in shower. He aligned himself beside the shower bench and braced his hands on the arms of the chair. As he lifted himself, she helped him to pull his boxers off of his hips. She slipped the garment down off of his legs, pulling it off and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. She unhooked the left arm of the chair, lifting it back to allow him to slide himself onto the bench using his upper body strength as she guided him with the belt. Once he was situated, he unhooked the gait belt and handed it to her as she wrapped the belt from the shower chair around his waist and secured him there. "I'll let you know when I'm ready" he told her with a smile and she headed back into their bedroom to prepare herself for the day.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that hung from the back of the door that separated them as she heard him start the water for his shower. In one of Vaughn's undershirts and a pair of old boxers, with her hair still damp from her own shower and pulled back into a messy bun, she was reminiscent of their newlywed days. Somehow, she was just as happy as she had been then. The knowledge that Vaughn would never walk again had weighed heavily on her during his time in the hospital, but now her overwhelming emotion was gratitude for that fact that he husband had survived. In fact, his injury and recovery had bound and forged the bonds of their marriage, their love tested and coming out the other side stronger than ever before. The depth of emotion that she felt for her husband was indescribable. Although the physical aspect of their relationship had been altered, she felt no less intimate than they had been in the time when they could make love every night, their hearts and minds still uniquely attuned to one another.

She mused over the changes of the past year as she sat down at her vanity table, pulling her cosmetic bag out from a drawer. The buzz of her phone interrupted her routine as distractedly, she reached over and grabbed it from the edge of the vanity. It was a text message, but the number was restricted. Knowingly, she opened it, her mind transposing her father's voice over the words. _Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. Hope you and Vaughn are well. Your mother says hello. _With a smile, she deleted the text, knowing that she would have to purge her phone later today once they were at the office to eliminate the chance of it being tracked back to him.

The last time she had seen her father had been outside of Vaughn's room at the naval hospital where he had been transferred once the doctors in Germany had deemed him stable enough to fly back to the states. Sobs wracked her body as her father rushed to her and took her into his arms. "It was Sloane" she choked out into his shoulder. "The deal was done, he was just walking away and the son of a bitch shot him in the back." She lifted her head up, her face determined despite its blotchiness from her tears. "I'm going to find him and end this for good." Her father had talked her down, pushing her flyaway hair away from her face where it clung to the dampness of her skin. "Sweetheart, Vaughn needs you here. I'll take care of this." He had pressed one last kiss to her forehead and walked away. She hadn't seen him since. What she had learned from the full investigation that Kendall had launched was that he had been suspected of collusion with her mother to hunt down their mutual enemy. Three months after Vaughn had been shot, Sloane's body had been delivered to the CIA. Her father had been unable to return, but he had contacted her sporadically, always anonymously. She missed him, but not seeing him was better than seeing him behind the glass walls that had housed her mother.

Vaughn called for her just as she finished applying her minimal make-up and she immediately piled the cosmetics back into their bag to come to his aid. Opening the door to the bathroom, her shirt instantly clung to her skin from the humidity. "It's like a sauna in here" she complained good-naturedly as she grabbed a towel from the hook on the back of the door and knelt before him. She started at his feet and then moved up to ankles and calves, rubbing his skin dry with the soft terrycloth towel. When she reached his knees, she placed a soft kiss on the inside of each thigh. He tangled his hands in her hair, pulling it loose from the clip that held it back from her face. "You're so good to me" he whispered in awe as he looked down at his wife. "I just love you" she replied honestly. Sometimes she wondered how it was possible to love anyone as much as she loved him. She had been so nervous when the nurses at the hospital had trained her to assist him when he returned home, unsure that she would be able to give him everything he needed. But completing his cares had brought them to a whole new level of closeness and trust, a relationship unlike anything they had ever shared before. She was his heart and he was her soul.

Standing and toweling off his back, she then handed him the cloth so he could complete the rest himself while she retrieved the gait belt from the bathroom counter. She made sure to secure this belt first before releasing the one that held him in place on the shower bench, having learned from one disastrous morning that had ended with paramedics and a nasty concussion. He slid over as much as he could on the bench before once again wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "One, two, three." She grunted slightly with the effort, the dampness of his skin making him stick slightly to the shower bench and requiring her leg muscles to strain harder to support him as they moved him to his wheelchair. Usually, she joked that he was her workout now that she was no longer in the field. When they had returned to work, she had transferred to a desk job to ensure that she would always be there to help care for him. Sometimes she missed the rush, the thrill of being good at something without having to try. But almost losing the love of her life had changed her. She had learned that nothing, not even revenge against Sloane meant more to her than her husband. She just wished that it hadn't taken something so drastic to make her realize just how much she needed him.

Once he was seated, they had to adjust so that he was all the way against the back of the seat and his legs were in place upon the footrests. He covered his bare waist with the towel and she pulled the self-catheter supplies from the cabinet on the wall, leaving the room to give him privacy.

Back in the bedroom, she began to dress, shedding the loose t-shirt and baggy boxer shorts for her usual strict black pantsuit. Her hair was brushed back as well, now in a sleek ponytail. By the time she had finished, Vaughn was done in the bathroom and had wheeled back into the bedroom to join her. She had already laid out his clothes and began to help him dress, first pulling on his socks, then pooling his boxers around his ankles, then sliding his belt through the loops of his pants and pulling them up his legs. He boosted himself up with his arms on the armrests so that she could yank them beneath his body and up around his hips. She helped him shrug into his undershirt, pulling it down between his back and the back of the chair and tucking it into his pants before buckling his belt. She handed him his dress shirt and began to work at the buttons when he placed a hand on hers to stop her. "Syd, I've got it from here" he assured her. He completed the task himself, tying his tie as well while she fastened his black dress shoes onto his feet.

She didn't mean to coddle him. She knew that maintaining as much of his independence as possible was important to him, but sometimes she needed the reminder to step back and fight her natural instinct to make things easier for him. Leaving the bedroom as he busied himself with gathering his belongings, she headed back into the kitchen and began to unscrew the lids from the prescription bottles that cluttered the countertop. Her hands performed the task by rote, scooping out the pills and dropping them into the glass dish that Vaughn took them out of. Three from this bottle, two of these, two from the next bottle, one from the small bottle on the right. He took eight pills in the morning and twelve at night, and she had memorized his medication regime months ago. As she began to fill a clean glass with cold water, he joined her at the counter. She set the water before him as he asked, "Can you skip the Vicodin today?"

"Vaughn-" she started to object until he cut her off. "This presentation is really important to me. I want a clear head." After his injury and months of rehabilitation, no one would have blamed him for not returning to the Agency. But Vaughn was stubborn, insisting that he didn't need his legs to serve his country. Sydney admired her husband's tenacity and dedicated patriotism, and today was a big day for him. He had worked his way up to assistant deputy director and was leading the task force in their pursuit of an emerging threat known as the Covenant. Today he would be presenting his plan of action in front of all of the members of the JTF.

"Your head won't be clear if you're in pain" she countered, but she respected his wishes all the same, scooping two large white pills from the dish and replacing them into the respective bottle. He took the dish, tossing his head back as he poured all of pills into his mouth at once and expertly swallowed them with a large gulp of water. Sydney had started their quick breakfast, putting slices of bread into the toaster as he wheeled over to the intentionally low countertop and poured himself a mug of coffee.

"Did you think any more about what I said last night?" he asked tentatively. Sydney was facing away from him but he saw her body still at his question. "Yeah, I thought about it and my mind hasn't changed."

"I'd like to hear why" he pressed. "A million reasons" she responded, turning to face him and taking the coffee pot from his hands to begin filling her own travel mug. "We should be focusing on you" she began, doctoring her coffee while still avoiding looking directly at him. Vaughn sighed. "The PT said I've regained about as much function as I'm likely to. Everything we're doing now is just maintenance to make sure I don't lose progress." He had accepted the fact that this was how he was going to be for the rest of his life, but he didn't want to dwell on it. The way things were, he could handle. He just wanted to move on.

"Still, IVF is a long and expensive process. Plus, how am I supposed to take care of you? I can't really transfer you with a baby bump in the way." Sydney brushed away his request with reason, her carefully crafted and logical defenses protecting her from considering the question he had asked her last night while they were celebrating their anniversary. But he wasn't dismissed that easily.

"So we'll get a home health care worker" he countered easily. While they had been at the restaurant, she hadn't wanted to talk about her refusal, saying that it was a discussion better suited for when they were at home. This had given him all night to think of ways to refute the arguments he knew she would pose. Sydney shook her head. "I don't want a stranger coming into our home."

"Then we'll hire Weiss to help me out. Hell, I'll even get him a nurse costume, he'd love it." That earned him a small smile from her, the joke breaking some of the tension that had been mounting as they exchanged their arguments. Yet still, she shook her head, turning away from him again as she retrieved the toast that had just announced its readiness with a soft _pop_. "I just don't think it's a good idea. Fertility procedures are expensive and there's no guarantee that they'll take." She was buttering the slices of bread as he relented. "Okay then. We'll adopt." He took the plate of food from her and moved over to the counter to eat, continuing to speak before she refuted this proposal as well.

"Sydney, you and I both know what it feels like to lose a parent. There are so many kids out there who need parents to take care of them. We could give them a family, a loving home, everything." She finished chewing the bite of food she had taken, leaning with her elbows resting on the countertop as she sat on the stool beside him. Taking her time, she mulled over her words before speaking. "You really think we can handle a baby?"

"I think we can handle anything together. I've already looked into it; they make bassinets that attach right to the side of the bed. If we put a bottle warmer on my nightstand you wouldn't even have to get up when it was my turn to take the 3am shift." _'He really had thought this through'_ she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach. As certain as she was that having a baby would be a bad idea, she was struck by pangs of guilt over refusing her husband something he was clearly passionate about. But she couldn't bring herself to agree to his plans.

"Vaughn, you sleep through Donovan barking" she reminded gently.

"Then I'll stop the pain meds" he answered firmly. She opened her mouth to object but he continued, "Having a family means sacrificing some things. If that's what it takes for us to be able to have this, then I'll push through it."

He kept speaking, his voice becoming less fervent but still emotional. "Look, Syd, I'm not trying to give you another burden to take care of." She turned back abruptly from where she stood at the sink rinsing her now empty plate. "Don't call yourself a burden. You're my husband" she admonished sharply.

"They're not mutually exclusive" he admitted with a shrug. "But I don't want to make your life harder. I just can't help thinking about that night in Santa Barbara. The way your face lit up when we talked about having kids."

"That was before" she replied sadly, remembering that perfect night with him, her naïve and hopeful wishes for their life together. "Yes, it was" he agreed. "But I still think we could have this. And I think it would make us both really happy."

"So you're not happy now?" she asked quickly. He knew then that he was getting close to the heart of the issue, as she always snapped when she felt that she was losing ground. "I am happy" he started evenly, not giving in or matching her tone. "I don't need a baby with you to be happy. You're all I need. But I also think that this is something we've both wanted all our lives. I've matched every one of your arguments so now you can tell me what this is really about. Why don't you want to have children?" Her body trembled, her lips on the verge of opening and releasing truths that she had held within her for so long. Shaking, she spoke, low and quick.

"Because I'm a curse, Vaughn. It's my fault Danny and Francie are dead, my fault that Will and my father can't come back. It's my fault you can't walk" she breathed, the remorse for all of the pain she had caused constricting her throat. Reaching out, he took her hands, his thumbs running across the backs of her hands to calm her. "Sloane is the reason for all of those things. Sydney, none of this is your fault. Every day you do everything you can to try to protect not only the people that you love but everyone else in this world."

"Everyone I love gets hurt or goes away and you want to put a baby around me? The opportunities for catastrophe are infinite."

"And so are the opportunities for happiness. Yes, we've seen terrible things and we've had horrible things done to us. But despite that, you and I have shared more beautiful moments than I can count. I won't deny that there's danger and darkness in this world, but there's also goodness and light and love. We can't give up on that." This time, she nodded, so slight that it was almost imperceptible.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked quietly. He smiled at her. "Yeah. I love you too. And for the record, I know that you would love this baby. You'd make a great mom. I mean, you already have plenty of experience changing diapers" he quipped, making her laugh with surprise at how blasé he was being about the early days of his condition. "Vaughn!" she exclaimed as she covered her mouth with her hand.

He grinned at her. "What? I'm allowed a little dark humor, right?"

"I suppose" she answered with a shake of her head, gathering her travel mug from the counter. "And I'll think about it" she finished slowly, giving him a hesitant look. "I mean, really think about it this time." "Okay" he answered gently. "That's all I'm asking." He squeezed her hand before releasing them as he moved away, grabbing his briefcase from the kitchen floor and placing it in his lap.

"You ready?" he asked, glancing up at her. She looked down at her husband, a man who, despite all of the awful things they had witnessed and all the injustices they had suffered, still firmly believed in hope, and truth and fairness. Even through this past grueling year, somehow _he_ had always been _her_ strength, not the other way around. She was still afraid; afraid of the world and its darkness, afraid of herself and all of her own inadequacies. But when she looked at him, she was also hopeful. She could see it, all of what their future could be because he so strongly believed that they could have it. They could have a baby. The child may not have his eyes or his smile, but they'd have his heart. That child would have all of the goodness and inner beauty and innocence that came from being loved by Michael Vaughn. Who was she to deny anyone that kind of all-consuming love? At the end of their lives, if she looked back on this day, would she regret letting her own insecurities keep them from ever having something more? She knew in her heart that she would. She would have to face her fears and trust in the man she loved. Sydney smiled at Vaughn, shouldering her bag and reaching down to take his hand in hers.

"Yeah. I think I'm ready."

Fin.


End file.
